


blind date

by notcaycepollard



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: AU, Daisy Is The Only Marvel Superhero, F/M, Tumblr Prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-08
Updated: 2016-04-08
Packaged: 2018-06-01 00:17:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6493471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notcaycepollard/pseuds/notcaycepollard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"So, okay, I have an idea." She leans in across the table, gazes at him heavy-lidded and drops her voice low. "How about you buy me a drink, and I keep you company?"</p><p>"I-" he says, about to decline, and she touches one finger to his knuckles.</p><p>"Come on. Just until your date shows up. Or, you know, if she doesn't show up, at least your night's not a total waste. One drink."</p>
            </blockquote>





	blind date

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shortitude](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shortitude/gifts).



"You know, whoever it is that stood you up doesn't know what they're missing out on."

He's too startled to respond, at first, and she's sliding into the booth opposite him by the time he manages to stammer out a half-hearted denial.

"Oh, I- I'm not- I mean, it isn't-"

She rolls her eyes. "What was it, OkCupid or Match dot com? You don't strike me as the Tinder type, somehow." Coulson laughs before he can catch himself, sits back a little, touches his fingertips to the knot of his tie.

"Someone at work set it up," he tells her. It's not even a lie. He's supposed to be here meeting the leader of a group calling themselves  _Inhumans_. SHIELD reaching out, a contact that's been made exclusively online until now. Someone code-named Skye. Except: he's been waiting for an hour, and nobody's shown.

"Blind date, huh?" she asks, takes his glass and drains the last mouthful of scotch he's been nursing for half an hour. Crunches an ice cube between her teeth, looking cheeky, and gives him a long, deliberate up-and-down. "Like I said. They're missing out."

"You think so?" he asks, instead of what's on the tip of his tongue. _Excuse me, would you mind leaving me alone? I'm very busy and important._ She nods, tucks a stray lock of hair behind one ear.

"Yeah," she says frankly. "I do. So, okay, I have an idea." She leans in across the table, gazes at him heavy-lidded and drops her voice low. "How about you buy me a drink, and I keep you company?"

"I-" he says, about to decline, and she touches one finger to his knuckles.

"Come on. Just until your date shows up. Or, you know, if she doesn't show up, at least your night's not a total waste. One drink."

He should say no. He should call the base, check whether there's been anything from their contact. He should shake her off, pull himself together, give her the easy and bland smile he's practised until his face gives nothing at all away.

"One drink," he says instead, and her face lights up in a smile.

"Daisy," she introduces herself, holds out her hand for him to shake. "Daisy Johnson."

"Phil," he returns, shakes her hand, tries not to feel the heat of her skin against his palm. "What can I get you?"

"Bourbon," she requests, shrugs out of her leather jacket and settles herself more comfortably in the booth seat. He smiles again, can't help it. Two hours ago he'd have been frowning at himself for being so unprofessional. But he's charmed, reluctantly so, and drinking another scotch, talking to a pretty girl for half an hour, it seems like a better idea than going back to the base alone and lonely.

 

They talk for four hours. Coulson doesn't even notice the time going, he's so wrapped up in their conversation, and the tilt of Daisy's head, the way she keeps tucking that lock of hair back. Her eyes, when he tells her about his mom, and the sound of her laughter when he wraps SHIELD stories in layers of obscuring detail enough to make them non-classified. They order more drinks, share a plate of fries, and Daisy explains how she moved to LA, how she'd lived in a van at first before edging her way up. Her work overseas, trips to Hunan, San Juan, Columbia. They compare notes on New Mexico.

(He'll think, later, that her stories were a little vaguer than he realized too. That both of them were carefully tailoring their truth, even as they forgot to size each other up. But right now, two scotches down and his skin warm where Daisy keeps brushing her fingers against the inside of his wrist, he's not thinking like a profiler. It's an unforgivable mistake, and god, he's having so much  _fun_.)

"So," Daisy murmurs, runs her fingertips down his forearm where he's rolled up his shirtsleeves. It's late, and the bar's full. They've had to share their booth with others, which means Daisy's slid in next to him, closer than he thinks is strictly friendly. He's been aware of her thigh pressed against his for the last half-hour, the heat of it even through her jeans and his suit trousers. The music's loud, and Coulson has to lean in to hear what she's saying. She must shift closer too; her mouth's almost pressed up against his ear when she speaks again.

"I'm sorry your date didn't show up," she whispers, and he shivers at the gust of her breath on his neck.

"I'm not," he tells her, ducks his head to hide his smile, feels Daisy's hand settle on his thigh.

"No?"

"Like I said," he says. "It was work."

"Business," she says, tone questioning, and then laughs. " _This_ isn't business."

"No," he agrees. "It's really not."

"So, uh," she says, looks down at her hands for a moment, bites her lip. "This wasn't meant to be a date, but we’ve had such a good time, and now it’s 2 a.m. and I should really go home..."

Coulson should agree. He should get back to base, should remember he's probably twenty years her senior, should tighten his tie and button himself back up and remember he's Agent Coulson and that dating a civilian never ends well.

"Do you  _want_ to go home?" he asks instead, watches her chew at her lip a little indecisively.

"No," she says, flicks her gaze up to meet his. "No, I really don't. You want to get out of here?"

"Yeah," he says. "Yeah, I really do." It feels like the best thing he's agreed to in years.

 

They're barely out of the bar before Daisy's kissing him. Her lips against his feel electric, and he hears himself moan, just a little. She laughs into his mouth, grabs him by the tie, kisses him harder.

"Tell me your place is close," she says, and he's dazed enough, light-headed, that it takes him a moment to reply.

"No, I- I'm from out of town. You don't- don't you have an apartment?"

"Roommates," she says, as if it explains everything. It kind of does. Technically, he has roommates too, except he's not sure the staff of a secret spy base count as _roommates_. "You're not from here? Don't you have a hotel room or something?"

"I... yeah, I do. You want to come back to my room with me?" His voice goes husky halfway through. He's never been this guy, meeting someone in a bar and going home with them. He wonders if he should have, sooner.

"Hell yes," Daisy agrees. "Hell  _yes_ , Phil." 

They basically crash into his room, tugging at each other's clothes and too caught up in kissing to watch where they're going. He gets her up against the door as soon as it closes, and she drops her jacket to the floor, lifts her arms up so he can pull off her t-shirt. She's got nothing on underneath except a black lace bra, and his breath catches at the sight. He slides his palm up her ribs, cups the swell of her breast, pinches her nipple through the lace, and the way Daisy moans goes straight to his cock.

" _Phil_ -" she gets out, bites at his lower lip, presses her hips flush against his. "Phil, Jesus  _Christ_ , I-"

"Bed," he suggests, and she laughs, trails kisses down his throat, reaches for his hands and guides them to her ass.

"Bed," she agrees, "great idea, Phil, best idea you've had all night," and then without warning she's wrapping her legs around his hips, balancing her weight against the wall in a move that Coulson's muscle memory translates as expert sparring. He blinks, staggers a little and steadies himself, carries her over to the bed. Pauses, for just a moment.

"Is this okay?" he asks, just to be sure, and Daisy's smile is very wide.

" _So_ okay," she tells him, throws herself backwards without a glance. It's another move that surprises him; he didn't expect her to throw herself around like she's been training with Romanoff. Then Daisy's hands are unbuttoning his shirt, and when she pushes it off his shoulder she stops, trails her fingers very lightly over the scar. "Jesus, Phil, you get attacked by a bear?"

"Open heart surgery," he tells her, easy as if it's no big deal. He doesn't want it to be a big deal, tonight. "Complications. It's a long story." Her face turns very tender, and she props herself up, brushes a kiss to his chest.

"You've gotta be more naked than this," she says after a moment, grins wickedly up at him. "We've gotta  _both_ be more naked than this." He doesn't hesitate, unbuckles his belt and tugs his pants down, peels off her tight jeans, crawls onto the bed and stays kneeling between her legs.

"Can I..." he asks, brushes a thumb against her clit through the soaked fabric of her underwear. Daisy makes another noise, louder this time, and nods, her eyes fluttering half-closed. Coulson doesn't hesitate, just pulls her underwear off, settles himself between her thighs, licks a long, slow stroke into her. He sucks at her, circles his tongue around her clit, feels her slide her fingers into his hair. Coulson could do this  _all night_ , he thinks, and pushes one finger slowly into her, listens to her gasp and swear.

"There-" she says, arches her hips up to meet his mouth, "oh, fuck,  _please_ , that-" and he sucks harder, grazes his teeth over her, pushes another finger in, crooks them to hit her G-spot. Daisy's thighs are shaking and she tightens her hand in his hair, tugs enough that he can feel how impatient she is. " _Please_ ," she says again, gasps louder, grabs at the sheet. He keeps going, builds her up and holds her trembling, until she's breathing loud, crying out, shuddering against him.

" _Oh_ ," she gasps, "oh, god, fuck,  _fuck_ ," and he knows she's close to coming, can feel how hard she's shaking.  _Like an earthquake_ , he thinks, and then the sound of Daisy coming hard and loud is joined by the sound of glass shattering in the minibar. The whole room is rattling like a freight train's going by at a hundred miles an hour, like the hotel has jolted on its foundations, like-

"An earthquake?" he says, and Daisy freezes.

"Oh," she says, in an entirely different tone. "Oh,  _shit_."

"We're not on a fault line," he frowns, and she sits up, drags a hand through her hair.

"No, that- Fuck.  _Fuck_. That hasn't happened in a while."

"That was  _you_?"

"Hi," Daisy says, smiles sheepishly. "I, uh. Phil Coulson, right? I... Skye. Hi." He blinks at her. She's propped up on her elbows, in nothing but a lace bra, her hair still so tousled it's outright messy. There's a flush high across her cheekbones and her lips are swollen like they've been kissing for hours.

" _Skye_ ," he says, blinks again. "You're Skye."

"Yeah," she agrees. "I'm Skye."

"What-"

"I mean," she adds, "I'm  _also_ Daisy Johnson. Skye's, like, my superhero name. Or, I guess, one of them. The online one."

"You're a _superhero_."

"Well," she says, ducking her head like she's embarrassed, " _yeah_. You've heard of Quake, right?"

"You- you cause  _earthquakes_?"

"Ground literally moved, congratulations, you're  _really_ good in bed, Phil." He must be frowning, because Daisy sighs, reaches out, lays her hand on his arm. "Phil," she says more gently. "Sorry. I know I should have told you, I just-"

"When we set up a meeting with the leader of the Inhumans," Coulson says, "I thought it was, you know, a  _name_. Not a _description._ "

"Hey," Daisy protests. "We _are_ human. We're just... a little more. You're not- you're not afraid, are you?"

"What? No! No, Jesus, Daisy, of course not, it's just... I didn't expect  _this_."

"Well," Daisy says, tugs him closer. "Neither did I. But then you were, you know,  _you_ , and I was having such a good time, and I thought..."

"What did you think?" he asks, when she falls silent. She leans in against him, drags her palm down his side.

"What's the SHIELD policy on dating your consultants, Phil Coulson?" she murmurs.

He should step back. He should create professional distance. He shouldn't get involved.

"That's classified," he tells her with a smirk. "But I think something can be arranged."

 

**Author's Note:**

> (tumblr prompt: "This wasn't meant to be a date, but we’ve had such a good time, and now it’s 2 a.m. and I should really go home...")


End file.
